


why’d you come in here lookin’ like that?!

by thunderylee



Category: Hey! Say! JUMP
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, bookstore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2019-01-15 17:14:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Yamada was bored with his bookstore job untilhewalked in.





	why’d you come in here lookin’ like that?!

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for yyexchange 2014 and trope bingo (mundane au).

This is all Chinen’s fault. One of them, anyway, since the reason Yamada has to work at all is because Chinen Saya influenced his sisters to torment him to the point where he had to move out. If Yamada hadn’t befriended Chinen Yuuri in kindergarten, their sisters wouldn’t have become friends, and Yamada wouldn’t be kneeling here stocking books that he’s pretty sure the local kids like to put back in the wrong places just to taunt him.

The scent of spicy cologne wafts past him, not too strong but just enough to earn his attention, and he looks over to see steel-toed boots and leather pants. Ordinarily he’d glance up at the person’s face, figuring it’s a customer who needs assistance, but his eyes take their time making their way up legs that never seem to end, disappearing into a sleeveless mesh shirt that doesn’t have to be low cut to show off sharp collarbones. The whole ensemble is topped off by a mess of black hair that seems to be sticking out everywhere on purpose, not because its owner had just woken up.

“Can I help you?” Yamada asks, his voice cool and even because he is not the type of guy who gets all flustered over some other guy, at work even. He’s never been flustered over another guy at all, actually, at least until right now. Assuming he’s flustered at all.

“I’m looking for books on bugs,” the guy says, his voice a little higher than Yamada’s but still masculine.

Yamada blinks. “Why?”

Guy shrugs. “They’re interesting.”

 _You’re interesting_ , Yamada wants to say, but all he does is get to his feet and try not to think about how he still has to crane his neck to look up at this customer. “Is there a particular kind of bug you want to read about? Or will any bug do?”

“I like beetles the best,” is the response, “but I’m not too picky.”

Yamada gets him set up at a computer terminal and shows him how to search the archives. His cologne is even more distracting with Yamada leaning over his shoulder, closer than he probably should be. He could have left the customer to his own decides after that, but neither one of them seem bothered that Yamada accompanies him on his walks through the aisles under the pretense of picking up even more misplaced books.

Three books are purchased and Yamada learns that the man’s name is Nakajima Yuuto from his bank card. Yamada takes his time ringing them up, drinking in the fascinating sight of this stranger lest he never seem him again, and his gaze lingers on Yuuto’s backside as the latter exits the store.

 _What the hell just happened?!_ Yamada asks himself, blinking in disbelief as he’s suddenly grateful for all of the books he has to put away.

He thought that would be the end of it, but three days later the same man appears, this time in a striped button-down shirt that makes him look even taller and different leather pants. What kind of job does he even have where he can dress like that? He’s not a student or he would have flashed his ID to get a discount. He’s tall but still young; Yamada can tell by his eyes, still sparkling with curiosity despite set in such a chiseled face.

This time he wants guitar books in English for his friend Keito who grew up in England. Yamada finds that interesting—he finds everything about Yuuto interesting—and engages the other man in a chat that lasts quite a long time. They talk about Keito and Chinen and Yamada learns that Yuuto is in a band that isn’t very successful since they mostly play out of Keito’s dad’s garage and only have a few original songs.

“You should come see us,” Yuuto says, handing over a flyer along with his payment for the books. “We do covers too! We probably know a lot of songs you like.”

“Okay,” Yamada agrees, feeling dazed as he accepts the flyer and mentally saves the date. It’s in a park a couple neighborhoods over from where he lives now and he really has no excuse not to go, not that he needs one. There’s nothing wrong about going to see a customer’s band play on his off time. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

The night of the show has Yamada standing in front of the mirror, unsure of what one wears to such an occasion. He may as well still live at home, because he can hear both of his sisters’ voices in his head teasing him about taking more time to get dressed than they do, who does he have to look good for, does he _like_ this guy or something?

Yamada pauses with a shirt halfway over his head at the prospect of him actually having a crush on another boy. It’s not something unheard of, of course—Chinen’s sister is into girls (including Yamada’s older sister, but he doesn’t want to think about that), and Yamada’s boss at the bookstore is transgender female, so it’s not like he’s uneducated about alternative lifestyles. He always thought he’d just _know_ if he was gay, not smacked in the face by it when it waltzed into his bookstore wearing leather pants.

“You look like a homo,” Chinen greets him ten minutes later when he responds to Yamada’s desperate text for help. “From what you’ve told me about this guy, though, that seems to be what you’re going for.”

“I hate you,” Yamada snaps. “This is all your fault.”

Chinen rolls his eyes as he disappears in Yamada’s closet and rustles around some hangers. “Everything is always my fault. Has been since we were five years old. One day you’ll thank me instead of blaming me.”

“When that day comes, I’ll send you flowers,” Yamada replies sarcastically, holding his unimpressed face with the plain shirt and jeans Chinen emerges with. “Where did you even find those? They’re boring!”

“Trust me, it’ll work,” Chinen assures him, throwing the jeans at Yamada’s head before grabbing an old idol magazine and flopping on Yamada’s bed. “Now get dressed so I can do your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Yamada asks, patting his short brown locks with a part in the middle, but Chinen scoffs and Yamada figures he should just do as he’s told.

An hour later, they’re heading to the park with drinks and sandwiches for the band. That was Chinen’s idea, which meant that Chinen was going as well. Chinen is pretty critical of music, so this could end up in disaster, but Chinen’s logic was that the more people who went to see them play, the happier Yuuto would be.

Except that Yuuto appears not to notice anything but Yamada walking toward him, pausing with his drumsticks in the air mid-practice as Yamada heads toward the makeshift wooden stage in the middle of the park. The other members are more interested in Chinen and the food, but Yuuto stares at Yamada so hard that Yamada feels caught in the fire with no thought to anyone else.

Then the connection breaks, just like that, and Yuuto’s banging on the drums so fast and rhythmic that Yamada is even more mesmerized. Where did this guy come from and how did he make such an impression on Yamada? These and other questions swirl through Yamada’s mind as he’s introduced to the other members and seated on a large tree root.

“I see the appeal,” Chinen whispers out of earshot of everyone but Yamada, snickering when Yamada elbows him and glares.

Yamada has never seen a live band play in his life, so he doesn’t have anything to compare this one to, but he definitely enjoys himself. It’s a short set, maybe eight or nine songs, mostly covers of songs so popular that Yamada would have to live under a rock not to know them, and Yamada finds himself singing along and cheering loudly enough to make up for everyone else in the park who doesn’t pay them any mind.

The guitarist is Keito, a nice-looking guy with muscular arms that flex each time he strums, often leaning back to back with the bassist Hikaru who has bleached blond hair and long fingers that Chinen comments on more than once. At the keyboard, Inoo’s hands fly on the keys like Yamada imagines an insane artist would throw paint at a canvas. They don’t have a singer, instead taking turns singing themselves, and Yamada is impressed that Yuuto can hold a melody with his voice and keep the rhythm with the drums at the same time.

Every time Yuuto has a pause in his drumming and looks out at them, he smiles so big that Yamada can see it from the distance, feel it coursing through his veins and flopping around in his stomach like nothing has before. For a moment he thinks he might be sick from all the excitement, but then it fizzles out into a pleasant tingling all over his skin and he realizes that it’s his own feelings making him react this way, whatever attraction he has toward Yuuto intensifying with Yuuto’s own happiness at having his support.

When it’s over, Yamada jumps up and applauds, only feeling a little self-conscious when not many other people do. It’s worth it to see Yuuto flash that grin, now sweaty and gasping to catch his breath after putting all of himself into the performance. While the other members pack up their instruments, Yuuto springs from his seat and Yamada vaguely registers the tall man’s profile getting closer until he can smell the scent of leather and excitement for himself.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Yuuto says, his eyes still sparkling despite his exhaustion. “We’re gonna clean up back at Keito’s and then just hang out. You guys are welcome to come.”

“Does this make us groupies?” Chinen asks seriously, and Yamada elbows him while Yuuto laughs. “Sure, whatever. I don’t have anything better to do.”

Yamada would never say it to his face, but he’s grateful that Chinen is there to keep the conversation flowing once they’re seated in Keito’s furnished basement sipping on cheap beer. Chinen used to be really shy, but he’s gotten braver as he’s gotten older and now has no problem asking the other members about their business, making it much less weird that the pair of them had basically gone home with a band whose show they’d just attended for the first time.

“Your friend is quite the social butterfly,” Yuuto comments, and Yamada almost jumps at how close he is. He’s not even really that close, seated on the next cushion, but he’s speaking low enough for just Yamada to hear and somehow it feels like they’re the only two people in the room.

“I’m a good influence on him,” Yamada boasts, feeling more confident than he really is, because he refuses to be out-braved by Chinen of all people. “I’m surprised he even stayed for the whole show. He’s quite picky about his music.”

“Or maybe he stayed for you,” Yuuto says gently. “You’ve looked like you wanted to bolt since you showed up at the park.”

Yamada’s facade crumbles at that, because he’s clearly not fooling anyone. “I’m sorry, I’m nervous! I just met you and I don’t know you at _all_ , but I feel like…I feel like…”

He trails off, unable to find the words to express his thoughts, but Yuuto just smiles at him and rests a hand on his arm. It’s a light touch, just long fingers gracing the bare surface of Yamada’s skin, and what feels like every hair on Yamada’s body sticks straight up in a sharp chill.

Yuuto has to feel it, but he doesn’t move. “I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I like you. It means a lot to me that you came today. I’m so glad I decided to walk into your bookstore in the first place. I didn’t really need to come back, but I wanted to see you again. I would have kept going, too, if you hadn’t talked to me and ended up here today! So thank you for that.”

Yamada blinks at him, taking in everything Yuuto had just said. The most prominent thing that repeats itself in Yamada’s mind is the confession, something he’s only heard a few times in his life and never from a boy, and it’s exciting and terrifying at the same time, so much that his nerves feel like they’re on overdrive with as strongly as they’re surging.

“I haven’t done this before,” he says quickly, his voice barely a whisper. “I mean, with a guy. I don’t know if I’ll like it, you know. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“Do you like _me_?” Yuuto asks, like it’s that simple, and in a way it kind of is.

“I think I do,” Yamada answers, because even he knows that’s what all of this means, this extreme reaction of his body that doesn’t necessarily want to throw Yuuto up against a wall but wants to be close to him just the same. “You’re fascinating.”

Yuuto’s fingers trail down Yamada’s arm to his hand, such a short distance creating such a sensual feeling that Yamada feels in his toes. Yamada watches their fingers lace together and doesn’t realize how hard he’s smiling until his face hurts.

“Then it’s okay,” Yuuto says, the small squeeze of his hand seeming to give Yamada strength to sit up straighter. “I think you’re fascinating, too.”

“I’m boring,” Yamada argues. “There’s nothing interesting about me at all.”

“With all due respect, that’s for me to decide,” Yuuto tells him. “And I disagree.”

Yamada feels his face heat up, but he’s not nervous anymore. Holding Yuuto’s hand like this, in the same room as Yuuto’s entire band and his own best friend, it just feels right. He dares to look up at Yuuto’s face, seeing those eyes wholly focused on him and whatever is happening between them here, and the only thing Yamada feels is anticipation.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Yamada finds himself asking, his heart beating faster as he smiles sheepishly. “I mean, if you’re not busy, I don’t have to work.”

“I’ve got nothing but time,” Yuuto says. “I’d love to spend it getting to know you.”

“You should know that despite working at a bookstore, I’m not a big reader,” Yamada confesses.

“I’m not either,” Yuuto says with a laugh, which has Yamada laughing too at the irony. “That day was the first time I had ever stepped foot into a bookstore. It’s like my weird interest in bugs led me to you!”

Yamada blushes harder, because he’s not used to this kind of attention at all. He glances up to see Chinen trying to catch his eye, pointing at his phone as inconspicuously as someone like Chinen can manage. Frowning at the interruption, Yamada reaches for his own phone with his free hand and finds it blinking with a text message.

 _I like sunflowers_ , it reads, followed by several winky faces, and Yamada just rolls his eyes.


End file.
